The Millionaire's Redemption by Therese Beharrie

Author:Therese Beharrie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Romance
Published: 2017-09-05T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘NO,’ SHE ANSWERED QUICKLY. ‘Of course not.’

‘Why on earth would you think that?’ he asked her, dismissing the obvious lie.

She wanted to be flattered by the incredulous tone he used, but her embarrassment was too much for her to think of anything else.

‘We should probably get going.’

Please don’t push, she thought, and while the minutes passed repeated the plea in her mind.

‘There’s a place we can walk to from here. It’s secluded...intimate. Something only the residents around here know about.’

Relief pummelled the reply from her mouth. ‘Yes, that sounds perfect.’

He nodded. ‘We can go down there.’ He gestured to the balcony stairs.

She followed him down the steps, through the gate he’d opened in the fence that no longer had to keep out a crowd. Her feet felt heavier with each stride. It didn’t take long for her to realise the weight had nothing to do with the sand they were walking on, but guilt.

Guilt for avoiding his question. For lying to him. She didn’t want to tell him, but she felt compelled to and she wasn’t sure why. Though she wanted to ignore it, his silence made her feel as if he was pulling back. It sent waves of panic through her that soon took control of her tongue.

‘I was overweight for a very long time.’ Her insides shrivelled at the words, but she knew it was too late to stop. ‘I lost some weight when I started university, and then a little more while I studied. It was hard.’ She cleared her throat when her voice suddenly went hoarse. ‘I’ve been struggling to keep it off since then.’

He didn’t respond, but gripped her hand. The warmth from it spread through her body.

‘You still feel like you’re overweight?’

‘I...’ She took a deep breath and was grateful for the slight pressure from his hand. ‘I’m not perfect. I’ll never be a supermodel.’

‘And in your mind that means you’re fat?’

She flinched at the word, just as she had the first time he’d used it. But it was her own fault. She’d thought it first—had almost said it—and she couldn’t shy away from it now because it offended her. But it brought back such memories—hurtful ones that made her want to fade into the background.

Before she could respond, he stopped, and put a hand around her waist, pulling her in to his side.

‘We’re here.’

She’d been so lost in thought, so lost in the difficulty of their conversation, that she hadn’t seen the beach torches that led to a small wooden deck. The deck seated four tables of two and four, then led into a beach cottage that had been renovated into a restaurant. Paraffin lamps lit the deck, lining the two steps that led up to it and the wooden banister that surrounded it.

Jacques’s hand still held hers as they walked up the steps and she saw the beach-themed green and blue interior of the restaurant. A stocky young man greeted Jacques with enthusiasm, with recognition, and seated them at the only free table on the deck.

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